Suite Surrender: Hetalia Style!
by BeyondRabidHitaLietProductions
Summary: When two rival diva countries, Russia and America, book the same hotel suite...the hotel is doomed! Watch as the staff have to try and hide the fact that they are both staying in the same suite! Please read! The summary sucks, but the stoy is much better! I promise! NOT a RussiaxAmerica! -Hita and Liet


Suite Surrender: Hetalia Style

By: Liet and Hita

We don't own Hetalia or Suite Surrender

A/N: We are not supporters of FrancexEngland or FrancexCanada, it was strictly necessary. Characters/Countries may be OOC but we are using the script and modifying it only in the slightest ways possible. Oh yes there are lots of Fem!Countries. Just as a warning. Not gonna list them all because I cant think of which ones...

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It was May 1942, in the elegant, newly refurbished Presidential suite of the Palm Beach Royale hotel. The suite had high vaulted ceilings and nice smooth hardwood floors. There were three different doors and then one set of magnificent French doors right in the center of the wall. Actually there were two sets of large doors, one led to the hallway and the other to the balcony. You could see the pool from the overlook. The three other doors led to two bedrooms, and 1 closet. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the room. There was a fancy couch in the center of the room with an end table next to it with a telephone sitting on it. In the far left corner there was a black baby grand piano with a bench. And on the right was a bar with a bunch of martini stuff. Two of the hotel's bellhops walked in, carrying 4 vases of sunflowers.

Italy looked around then looked to his companion, "So, where do we put all these, ve?"

France shrugged, "Japan didn't say. He just said to bring them up."

"So where do we put them?"

"All around, I guess."

And so they placed the flowers around the room in an assorted fashion. As they did so Italy decided to make small talk.

"I haven't seen this many flowers since my Grandpa Rome's wake~"

France set down the last vase and turned towards his Italian friend, "Japan says she insists on having sunflowers in every room that she stays in."

"I guess when you're as big of a star as she is, you can afford to do such things."

"I heard she once threw a bellhop off a fifth floor balcony of the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco."

"No!" Italy cried.

"Because he accidently brought her black eyed susans."

"Noo!"

"Really."

"Nooooo!"

"That's what I heard."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Okay."

"You are. You're wrong."

"I'm just telling you what I heard."

"She couldn't have. She's a very nice lady. I saw her at the Paramount with my cousin Spain. It was a triple thrill with Bing Crosby and Frankie Lane. She wore a pink dress and waved right at me."

"And that makes her a nice lady?"

"She sang God Bless America, and everybody cried."

France ignored him and looked over to the left corner of the room. He walked over to the baby grand and ran his hand across the smooth surface.

"Hey, look they fixed the piano."

Italy continued on, "I've never actually seen a celebrity up close before. I mean, one time last December I saw the back of Douglas Fairbanks' head walking through the lobby, but I don't think that really counts. And a few years back, I valet parked Tallulah Bankhead's Packard. But I think that counts even less."

France finally decided to sit down and pressed his hands onto the keys.

"Nope, this is a new one. I guess, the old one was so smashed up, it was beyond repair."

He plays a little bit of a song, smiling as he does so.

"It's a beaut. Listen to that."

"Hey, that's right! You used to be in the show business, didn't you, France?"

France stopped playing and turned his head to look at Italy.

"Where did you get an idea like that?"

"You told me."

"I what?"

"You told me."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes you did. That night we all went out to Germany's Pub. You drank all that beer and told me how you used to play the piano for some girl."

"No I did no such thing."

"In some cabaret in Los Angeles."

"Italy—"

"Emily. Or Emmy."

"Italy—"

"It started with an E."

"Italy! You're wrong! I was never in show business! There was no girl! There was no—"

"Elizabeth! I think you said her name was Elizabeth," France glares at him, "Maybe it wasn't an E."

"I'm gonna have a smoke."

France moved to the balcony doors, opens them, and steps outside. Where he then lights a cigarette. Meanwhile, Italy is still in the room talking to himself of what the girl's name could be.

"Maybe it was an N name. Natalia. Natalie. Natasha. Nyssa," Italy thinks for a moment, "No, I still think it was an E."

France, looking down at the pool below, told Italy, "Speaking of girls, come check out the cutie in the blue swimsuit by the pool."

Italy moved out onto the balcony, "We shouldn't be goofing around up here. They're going to be looking for us downstairs~"

"You worry too much, Ita-chan."

"I do not!" But he was silenced as France shot him a look.

"I don't!" Italy wailed, right after he glanced over the balcony.

"Did she really throw a bellhop off the five story balcony?"

Just then Japan, the general manager of the Palm Beach Royale, enters the suite. Upon hearing Japan enter, Italy and France rushed back inside to greet their boss.

"Hi Mr. Japan!" Italy says, cheerfully.

"Good God, look at all of these sunflowers. Forty thousand dollars to renovate this suite and now it looks like somebody's wake."

"But you said—" Italy tried to say.

"I know what I said. Now just put them in the bedroom."

"Which one?" France asked.

"Either one. Just get them out of here."

Italy and France quickly and efficiently move all the vases into the bedroom on the right.

"And do it quickly. I have Mr. Osgood coming up here any moment."

"Will Miss Russia be with her?" Italy asked, hopefully.

"No. She's not arriving till later."

"Mr. Japan?"

Japan looked at Italy, "What is it France?"

"I'm Italy~"

"I'm France."

"Yes, of course. What is it _Italy_?"

"Would it be alright if I asked Miss Russia for her autograph?"

"No."

"Even if it's for my mother?"

"No."

"What if it's for my sick mother?"

"France." Japan said, with an edge of warning in his voice.

"Italy~"

"_Italy_."

"Yes sir~?"

"Get out."

"Yes sir, we're leaving right now."

Japan turns to France, "Oh, and…and…"

"France, sir."

"Yes, yes, France. Tell Mr. Yao at the front desk to send Miss Russia up as soon as she arrives. We'll check her in and get her her bags later."

"Yes sir."

Italy and France go to leave; they open the door and see none other than Mr. Austria Osgood.

"Oh, hi Mr. Osgood."

"Hi, Mr. Osgood~"

"Hello boys."

France and Italy exited while Austria came in. Austria removed his gloves and walked around the room.

"Now then Mr. Japan, how did we do?"

"See for yourself," Japan dramatically gestured to the room, "One hundred percent renovated. And on schedule. As promised."

"Oh it's lovely. Just perfect. Even better than before."

"It should be, for all the money it cost."

"I certainly hope the United States Army won't be asked to contribute to the cost of this renovation."

"Of course not."

"You see, these boys are putting their lives on the line for all of us to be here in America. They deserve to let off a little steam."

"Even if it means demolishing a hotel suite or two."

"Come now, don't be petty. The damage they caused couldn't have been that bad."

"Mr. Osgood, I realize how important it is that you and your Palm Beach Men for Unity—"

"The PBMFU." Austria stated proudly.

"Yes. As I was saying, I realize how important it is that you sponsor these little weekend leaves for GI's."

"Oh yes, indeed."

"But don't you think there are more…..suitable venues?"

"Suitable?"

"The Palm Beach Royale has been a staple of the Palm Beach society for close to fifty years. Presidents and Royalty have stayed in this very suite."

"Well if it's good enough for royalty, then it's good for our boys on the battlefield."

"Mr. Osgood, this last weekend we found a young GI stuck through the wall."

"As I said, they need to let off steam."

"The wall, Mr. Osgood. The wall."

"I'm sure there was a perfectly good reason."

"He was wearing nothing but a lampshade, singing 'Begin the Beguine.'"

"So what's your point?"

"My point is—"

"Really of no interest to me. Mr. Japan, as long as the war is going on, and as long as my husband is Chairman of the Board of this hotel, the Palm Beach Royale, and everyone on its staff—including yourself—will continue to give their all to support the War Effort. Whether that is by hosting USO functions, organizing fund drives…or pulling GI's out of the walls. Is that understood, Mr. Japan?"

"Perfectly."

"I'm so very fond of you. I would hate for you to have to start looking for employment at another 'staple of Palm Beach Society.'"

"As would I."

"Then we understand each other."

"Yes sir. I assure you, we will continue to do our very best to accommodate your boys in uniform."

"Excellent! Now then, let's discuss tonight. Is everything on schedule?"

"Yes sir. Everything, and I do mean everything, is set and ready to go. Every last detail has been attended to."

"The ballroom downstairs?"

"The chandeliers are gleaming. The woodwork is polished. The orchestra has been rehearsing all day."

"This is a very important night Mr. Japan."

"Don't I know it."

"This is the largest War Benefit the Palm Beach Men for Unity has ever thrown. There are reporters here from all over the world. Just think, tonight's benefit will be broadcast live on radios from sea to shining sea!"

"The technicians are setting up the equipment downstairs as we speak."

"The ears of the nation will be looking down on us."

"And, I assure you, the Palm Beach Royale will sparkle like the diamond she is."

"Of course she will. I have complete faith in you. What about the entertainment?"

"What about it?"

"Has everyone arrived?"

"Everyone, except Russia and America."

"Goodness, let's hope they don't arrive at the same time."

"Could you imagine?"

"And Russia will be staying here in the Presidential suite?"

"Yes."

"And Miss America?"

"A suite on another floor, on the other side of the hotel."

"Perfect. And the show?"

"Everything's set. Everything's perfect. I've timed down every act down to the second. Miss America will perform at precisely 8:40. She'll be done and off the stage by 9:00. After that, we have Jimmy Durante. Miss Russia doesn't take the stage until 9:30. By that time, Miss America will be back up in her suite. They'll never see each other."

"That's good. Miss Russia was adamant that she at no time be on the same stage, or for that matter the same room, with Miss Russia. It's a shame really. The last National War Fund Benefit those two headlined raised over sixty thousand dollars. People went just to see if they would kill each other."

"They won't get anywhere near each other. I guarantee it."

"Good man. We don't want any unnecessary drama. Tonight's benefit is far too important."

"As you know, Mr. Osgood, I run a very tight ship. Nothing happens at the Palm Beach Royale, unless I allow it."

Suddenly the French doors burst open and Poland burst through the door, notepad and pen in hand.

"Darling I…," She looked and saw only Mr. Japan, "Oh crap, it's only you."

"Miss Poland. What a nightmarish surprise."

"I've come to chat with Miss Russia."

"Who?"

"Very funny. Is she here yet?"

"I haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about," Japan says then turns to Mr. Osgood, "Mr. Osgood, I don't believe you've had the…what's the word I want?

"Pleasure?" Poland asks, winking.

"Not so much. 'Occasion' to meet Miss Poland."

"I'm afraid I haven't."

"Miss Poland has the…distinction…of writing a column for The Palm Beach Tattler."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that publication."

"Luck you. Now, Miss Poland, allow me to show you the door. Or should I call security?"

"I was told Miss Russia would be staying in this suite."

"You were told wrong."

"What if I told you Miss Russia invited me herself?"

"I would tell you you're lying."

"Rumor has it she's planning an all out assault on America. She's still fuming from the last benefit they did together."

"I have no idea what you are talking about. I do however know the extension for the security desk."

"I'm a guest at this hotel. You wouldn't dare."

Japan moves to the phone and dials the number.

"Hello, security? This is Mr. Japan. We have a Code Red in the Presidential Suite. Thank you."

He placed the phone back down and looked at Poland.

"They're on their way."

"I never liked you very much."

"I'm heartbroken."

"Mr. Osgood, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I must really be going. Maybe one day we can sit down and have a chat."

"Oh my dear I don't think so."

Poland whipped out a card and handed it to Austria.

"Just in case."

Austria looked down at the card, "Yes, well…."

Poland exited through the doors.

"What a peculiar person."

Japan snatched the card from him and tore it into two. He then stuffed it into his pocket.

"Trust me, Mr. Osgood, you want to avoid that woman at all costs. She's a snake. Her pen is poisoned. She lives for scandal."

"How festive."

"And, as you might imagine, she is but of one thousand things that I need to deal with today. Therefore if you'll be so kind as to—"

"There is one last thing Mr. Japan."

"Of course there is."

"This week's Palm Beach Men for Unity Weekend-Leave Program is sponsoring…The Navy."

"The Navy?"

"Yes."

"You're kidding."

"No. I've invited a few dozen to attend tonight's festivities."

"You what?"

"I've given them front row seats at tonight's benefit and a block of rooms down on the fourth floor. I told them to look at the Palm Beach Royale as if it was their own home."

"You didn't."

"I did!"

"No, really. You didn't."

"I assure you I did," Austria said, chuckling a little bit at the end, "Isn't that just too wonderful?"

"I can't begin to tell you." Japan spoke through clenched teeth.

"I was hoping to get the Marines too. But that just seems iffy. Well then, I'm off. I want to change into a different suit before the festivities begin."

With that said Mr. Austria Osgood leaves.

"Oh dear God, the Navy." Japan muttered to himself.

He quickly picked up the phone and dialed the front desk.

"Hello Yao, this is Mr. Japan. Cancel the Code Red in the Presidential Suite. Also I want you t ring me the second that—"

Just then Russia came in, her long silver hair up into a neat bun. She had on a knee length blood red dress with silver sparkles outlined along the edge and the neckline. She is followed by Mr. Canada, but Russia didn't care for that name so she gave him the name Matthew Williams. Mr. Matthew is a small man who allows Russia to step all over him like a doormat. He carries an attaché in one hand and Russia's lap dog named Mr. Burban, in the other hand.

"God, how I love this hotel! How I love this suite! How I love—" Russia starts to say, but upon noticing Japan, she frowns, "Who the hell are you?"

Japan put the phone down and smiled, "Japan, Miss Russia. General Manager of the Palm Beach Royale. At your ser—"

"MATTHEW!" Russia yelled.

"Yes, Miss Russia?"

"Where the hell are my sunflowers?"

Matthew turned to Japan and gave him a stern look.

"Mr. Japan, we were assured sunflowers."

"They're in the bedroom, Miss Russia. Four dozen sunflowers. Just as you asked for."

"Well, why are they all in there?" she turned to Matthew, "MATTHEW!"

"Yes, Miss Russia."

He placed the attaché down and handed Japan the dog. He then enters the right side bedroom.

Russia turned to Japan, "Rooms should always be filled with sunflowers. They bring such joy, such calm. Don't you agree?"

"Actually, I—"

"But sunflowers, not black eyed Susan's. _Black eyed Susan's_. Black eyed Susan's are pure and clean. Sunflowers make me sad. They remind me of my ex-husband. May he rest in peace. Soon."

Canada returned from the bedroom with all vases in hand. He started to put them around, when he was done he returned to Russia's side.

"Matthew, where is that moron now?"

"Monte Carlo, last I heard."

"Still too close."

"Yes, well…I'd just like to say, Miss Russia, what a great pleasure it is to have you staying with us again."

"Of course it is, darling."

Japan placed his folder on one of the tables.

"If there is anything you need, please feel free to ask. I have here a schedule for this evenings performance. You're on at 9:30. If you'd like to rehearse—"

"What I'd like darling, is a drink. Does this suite come with vodka?"

"Um, yes…" Japan gestured to the bar.

"Olives?"

"Yes."

"Splendid! MATTHEW!"

"Yes, Miss Russia."

He walked over to the bar and started to prepare her her beverage.

"Well then, if there isn't anything you need from me." Japan started on his way to the door.

"Actually Mr.…." Russia said.

"Japan."

"Yes. Mr. Japan. There is one thing. America," she said the name like it was poison, "Has she arrived yet?"

"Not that I know of. Is there a problem?"

"No. And there won't be as long as you keep that little creep as far away from me as possible."

"I can assure you, you'll never see the woman."

"Because if I do…"

"You have my word, you won't."

"Lovely! Would you like to join me for some vodka?"

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course not."

"In that case—no thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go check on your luggage."

Japan leaves the room.

"Splendid! Oh how I love this hotel!"

Matthew brought her her vodka. Russia took it and took a big drink of it. There suddenly came a knock at the door. Matthew opened it and saw Japan standing there, still holding the dog.

"Your dog." Japan says, handing him the dog.

Matthew took the dog and then slammed the door in Japan's face.

"Mr. Burban! Let me see you, precious doggie."

Matthew handed Russia Mr. Burban, and Russia makes cooing noises.

"Oh I think Mr. Burban needs a little lie down, don't we Mr. Burban? Yes we do!" She turns to Matthew, "Bedroom."

"Yes, Miss Russia." Matthew said taking the dog and setting him in the bedroom on the right.

"Matthew, Mr. What's-his-name left a schedule. Who's listed as the headliner?"

Matthew came back out and picked up the folder, flipping to the schedule.

"You are, Miss Russia."

"And where is America?"

"Third on the bill. Under yourself and Jimmy Durante."

"Good."

"Would you like to—?"

"What I'd like is another olive in this vodka."

"Yes, Miss Russia."

Matthew grabbed an olive from the bar and brought to Russia via toothpick.

"Vodkas are like women of a certain age. They should never be under dressed."

'Yes, Miss Russia."

He gingerly dropped the olive into her glass.

"God, I'm exhausted. Long train trips always tire me so. And all those dreadful reporters and photographers down in the lobby. All those flashbulbs popping in my face. Tell me Matthew, how do I look?"

"Oh please, Miss Russia."

"Tell me."

"But I already told you on the train."

"Well, tell me again."

"You look very young."

"And what else?"

"You look very thin."

"And what else?"

"You look better than America on her very best day."

"How sweet. That's very kind of you." She indicates to the piano, "Now play me something beautiful and sad."

"Oh Miss Russia, I already have so much to do today."

"Yes and the first thing is to play me something beautiful and sad."

-END-

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FINALLY! I GOT THE FIRST CHAPTER DONE! It's around 3,500 words so enjoy! 14 flippin pages! Anyways this is a combined work of Hita (me) and Liet! As it was mentioned above. We worked very hard and we're sorry it took so long! I did kinda procrastinate. So we hope you enjoyed and we would love it if you reviewed so, hopefully, we can continue!

~Hita and Liet Say Goodbye~


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